


but you're walking home to me

by simici



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Character Study, Homophobia, M/M, Using the Klose family to give Nicky the love he deserves, i guess?, mentions of conversion camp, messy prose for a messy boy, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 13:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21209072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simici/pseuds/simici
Summary: There’s a comforting hand on his arm, and he stares at his knees and the grass below them. And then he abruptly turns around to look Erik in the eye and say, “I lied about my parents.”“Oh.” Erik says. He blinks in surprise, “When?”“My relationship with them is,” Nicky doesn’t know how to describe what their relationship is or isn’t. It’s too complicated to quantify. He settles with, “Not good.”





	but you're walking home to me

He has a real conversation with his mother for the first time in weeks, and go figure that one conversation is all it takes to shatter the fragile peace he’d settled into. Nothing ever does manage to cut deep like talking to his family does, after all.

(“Just a few more months and you’ll be back home again,” she reminds him, and the dread settles in.

“I’ve missed you so much, Nicholas,” she says, and he can’t find it in him to hold it against her.)

He doesn’t remember how he responds, only the tightness clinging to his ribcage, but the call doesn’t last much longer than that. The phone is resting on his chest, and his eyes are fixed on the ceiling and he’s caught between the tempest and an unnerving calm. But that’s just his life these days, he thinks: he’s Nicky Hemmick, studying abroad in Germany for his senior year, and living a sweet lie.

“Nicky, hon, are you feeling okay?”

He shuts his eyes and hates himself for it when he pretends to be asleep. Frau Klose pauses in the doorway for a few long moments, and she has to know that he’s faking - she has to have heard him talking on the phone not five minutes ago - but she doesn’t call him out on it. 

He appreciates her more than words can tell.

Nicky doesn’t know when he became a liar. He certainly wasn’t this way as a child, because lying was a sin and his parents would have been so disappointed with him if he were caught. Besides that, he’d just never felt the need. He hadn’t even hid his sexuality that long, because he’d felt guilty for keeping such a big secret. And secrets, he’d discovered, are ever so lonely to keep.

But at some point after that, he’d begun to lie. He’d begun to live out the lie after coming back from camp. And Nicky thought that things would be different, half way across the world and surrounded by strangers, but.

(“Do your parents know?” Erik had asked, blandly curious now that they’d found something so unexpectedly in common.

“Yes, they know,” Nicky had said, and the rest had been on the tip of his tongue, but-

“Oh, that’s good,” Erik said, and had meant it. Erik’s parents also knew, and they were oh-so proud of their son.

“Yeah,” his chest ached, but his mouth was moving all its own, “I’m really glad.”)

But Nicky had told a little lie about his parents, and it just kept happening. They were just little lies, mostly; nothing serious. Nothing that even warranted the effort of lying about. It’ll be about his taste in music or if he wants to go camping or what he thinks about . But he just can’t bring himself to disagree with Erik or his parents. Every time he’s faced with the choice to express himself, he feels a real fear for something he doesn’t quite understand. 

That’s not true, Nicky thinks. He does understand; he had told the truth once, and it had ruined everything. To now be rejected by the Klose’s, who have become his sanctuary in a world of hurt, is simply not an option.

Love is patient, love is kind, and love has always hurt him the most.

So that makes sense, but it doesn’t explain some of the completely inane things he lies about. And it doesn’t mean he has the words to defend himself when he’s caught in it. Nicky just goes mute and shrugs his shoulders and tries to avoid the disappointed look he receives from Mrs. Klose; wonders how long before this family realizes he’s more trouble than he’s worth.

(It won’t even matter soon, anyway. Once the semester’s over, he’ll be back in America.)

(He keeps lying about his parents, too, but for different reasons. He feels something akin to shame when he sees how close the Klose’s are and compares it to the reality of his own family situation. Admitting to his worries and heartbreak and every “solution” that’s been tried on him-- Nicky can’t help but to feel like they’d judge him and his parents too. Is it wrong of him to feel defensive for his mother and father, despite everything?)

Nicky walks out with Erik to the grassy park a few blocks from the house, their hands loosely clasped between them. Holding hands has become more and more frequent, and Nicky definitely isn’t going to complain. The sensation makes him feel warm and giddy and it isn’t something he’d trade for the world. Erik looks at him when he starts swinging their arms, and he grins back when Nicky smiles at him. 

If he could just keep Erik looking at him like that forever, then he’d never have to worry about anything ever again.

To be honest, it’s a goddamned miracle that Erik continues to put up with Nicky’s particular brand of personal baggage, in Nicky’s humble opinion. Especially since he still hasn’t explained any of it. 

The first time they kissed, Nicky cried. (Not a few tears either; he was ugly sobbing all over Erik’s jacket and half-way to hyperventilation right there on the park bench). He was sure that that would be enough to scare Erik away from him, but he was wrong. Every day and every hour, Erik was proving himself to be a solid and reliable thing that Nicky didn’t have to be afraid of. 

(But knowing and doing are two very different thing, and Nicky was burned and branded by a different kind of love called ascetic.)

When they had begun this thing, Nicky had begged Erik not to tell his parents, even though Erik assured him that his parents wouldn’t care. It was a selfish thing to ask from someone who told his parents almost everything, but in the end Erik had pursed his lips and agreed. 

(Not that that had lasted, because they’re careless teenagers and it had taken approximately two weeks before Erik’s mom had caught them kissing. So there’s that.)

The point is, if he hadn’t realized before that, then Erik must have figured out then how high-maintenance Nicky was going to be. But he still hadn’t backed down from the task, and Nicky feels damn near reverent. 

The other point is that he wants to marry this boy, but that’s a whole ‘nother train of thought entirely.

Erik spends a half hour or so practicing footwork with his old, faded football (when he wants to be difficult, Nicky insists it’s a soccer ball, actually, and Erik becomes so charmingly indignant). Sometimes Nicky will practice with him, even though he’s obviously no good at it and mostly just spends his time running after the ball. Today, he just sits on the sideline and lazily tears blades of grass into ribbons. He’s mentally and physically exhausted from worrying, and the warm breeze passing through the trees overhead lulls him into a a comfortable trance. 

Back in South Carolina, it’s probably blisteringly hot and humid. It’s probably impossible to go during the day like this, because even the nights are too warm. Honestly, he’d be perfectly content to never spend another summer there again, especially after being spoiled rotten by Stuttgart’s climate. Stuttgart was nothing like he’d been expecting when he’d arrived. In almost every way, it was so much better. 

“What’s on your mind?” Erik asks, dropping down beside him. Despite the nice day, he’s worked up a sweat, and Nicky admires the view when Erik pulls his shirt up to wipe his forehead. He’s caught looking, and Erik gives him a cheeky smile. Nicky leans back until he’s lying propped up against Erik’s shoulder and nearly in his lap, and Erik’s hands come automatically up to play with the curls in his hair. He let’s the moment drag on, tries to commit it to memory, before he answers, “It’s really beautiful here.”

Erik hums in agreement. Nicky can feel the vibration of it in his chest.

“I don’t want to go home.” He listens to the sound of Erik breathing behind him as the hands in his hair stall. They haven’t really discussed this, because every time it comes up, Nicky deflects deflects deflects.

Erik says, “I don’t want you to go, either. I want to keep you here forever.” He says it so easily and earnestly, and Nicky’s heart squeezes from pure affection. 

“Well,” Erik adds, reluctantly, “I’m sure your family must miss you too.” Nicky doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t want to have this conversation anymore. He wants to keep not thinking about it forever. He wants to kiss this perfect, wonderful boy and never deal with real life. 

But that isn’t fair, he’s coming to realize. 

And then: “Mom is worried about you.” Erik says, suddenly, which mildly throws off Nicky’s train of thought. He doesn’t have an answer for that, either. He makes a noncommittal hum and goes back to tearing grass out of the ground. But Erik goes on, “I’m worried about you, too.”

Damnit.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” He asks, and his voice is so gentle. Evidently, Nicky hasn’t been hiding his anxieties as well as he’d thought, if both Erik and his mother were worrying over him. Were they talking about him together? He looks for the familiar feelings of paranoia in response, but all he can find is guilt for making them worry.

“I don’t want to go home,” Nicky repeats, in a small voice. There’s a comforting hand on his arm, and he stares at his knees and the grass below them.

And then he abruptly turns around to look Erik in the eye and say, “I lied about my parents.”

“Oh.” Erik says. He blinks in surprise, “When?”

“My relationship with them is,” Nicky doesn’t know how to describe what their relationship is or isn’t. It’s too complicated to quantify. He settles with, “Not good.”

Nicky shakes his head, “I told you my parents know that I’m gay, but that’s only half true. They think I’m straight now.”

Erik doesn’t bother interrupting, but his expression has gone from confusion to unease. Nicky doesn’t know what expression his own face is making anymore, but his skin feels wired and million moments of fear and self-doubt are bubbling up in the form of nervous energy.

“They didn’t want a gay son. It made my mother cry, you know? My father kept trying to find a way to fix me. He thought that he was helping me, I guess, but he just couldn’t accept it. They sent me to a camp.”

“Camp?” Erik repeats, his voice as flat as he’s ever heard it.

Nicky struggles with the right words in German, his own thoughts a mess, “Gay healing. Conversion therapy camp. It was through the church, and I hated it there. It was hateful, they--.”

His voice cracks when he says, “I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home to parents who would love me like they had before, so I lied and said that I was cured. That’s the way I lived until I came here. I was only able to come here because they were so proud of the lie I had told them.”

“I haven’t talked to my dad since February.” Nicky says. He knows this does not line up with a number of things he’s said. “I talked to my mom earlier, but most of my “calls home” are fake.”

”...Why?” 

Nicky shrugs helplessly. “Your mom told me that I should call home or my family would worry. I didn’t know what to tell her, so I just pretended. It was easier not to confess.

I lied about a lot of things. I don’t know why, or when it started, but I started being too afraid to stop.” Saying it aloud is at once painful and cathartic, and he couldn’t stop now if he wanted to.

“My family doesn’t go on picnics and I didn’t tell them about you and they aren’t proud of me at all.” Nicky says. “I don’t like Kreator and I think the gameshow your dad is always watching is stupid. I don’t like your mom’s Sauerkraut and your aunt’s cat is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen and when I agreed with your one friend that Disney is overrated, I was lying then, too, because Disney kicks ass.” 

Erik is just staring at him now, and that’s fair. Nicky feels like something in him broke, and maybe it was something important, like his sanity, because at the moment, nothing feels more important than telling Erik everything, “I think reality television is entertaining, and I hate the color of your kitchen, and I don’t understand art museums at all. I already know how to cook, I just said I didn’t know how because having your mom “teach” me was really fun and I wanted to see how much salt I could add to your eggs before you’d say something. I think golf is boring and I don’t like your football friends.”

“I don’t even like football itself, I just go to your games because it makes you happy and because you look, like, really hot in a jersey.” At this point, Nicky is out of breath and finally beginning to feel foolish. He looks up at Erik, searches his face for a reaction.

”...Well, I already knew that last one,” Erik finally says, and Nicky giggles breathlessly despite himself, which eases Erik’s stupefied expression a little bit.

“Was I that obvious?”

“Nicky, I’ve been trying to teach you to play since August and you still don’t know the rules. It’s kind of a foregone conclusion.”

They’re quiet for a few moments, and Erik reaches out his hands to take Nicky’s in his own and rub his thumb over his knuckles. “I still don’t understand,” He admits, “Why those things? Did you think that I’d be mad at you if you didn’t like my music?”

Nicky shrugs, helplessly. His voice sounds small when he says, ”I love it here, and I love your family. I wanted you to like me, too.” 

“Nicholas, I already love you,” Erik says, helplessly. “My parents already love you, too.”

Nicky can barely see his expression anymore through the blur of hot tears in his eyes. He swallows the lump in his throat and says, “I’m high-maintenance. I’ll just keep being trouble, you’ll see.” There’s a twinkle in Erik’s eyes when he leans forward and says conspiratorially, “I like it when you’re high-maintenance. Do you think I’m blind? I know that you’ve been going along with things just to please people. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been paying a lot of attention to you.

“I like it when you’re difficult, because it makes me feel like you aren’t hiding from me. I like it when you’re petty and opinionated.” He says, and at some point, Nicky’s started crying in earnest. (It’s going to be their first kiss all again, he thinks, and curses his body for this. It isn’t that he cries that often, but when he does, it’s at an inopportune moment.)

“Besides,” Erik goes on, petting his hair and making no remark about the waterworks, “I like to take care of you; tt makes me feel like big, strong man,” Erik jokes, and straight-up flexes to punctuate his point. Nicky breaks out in giggles again-- wet and snotty giggles, because he’s still crying and god this is not his most attractive look. 

He wipes his eyes and takes a few steadying breaths, “I don’t know what to do when I go home. I can’t face them, Erik. I don’t want to go back to pretending but,” the words lodge in his throat and he swallows, “I don’t want to make my mom cry again.” 

Erik looks at him and he hates it, knows that he’s judging him for still caring about his parents, knows he can’t defend himself, “My parents, they’re all I have at home. I can’t just-- What would I even do? I have nowhere else to go.”

That silence that follows is heavy on his shoulders. Then,

“Why do you have to go back there at all? Can’t you just stay?” Erik asks quietly, and it pulls something between laugh and sob from Nicky’s chest. It’s too ridiculous to bear serious consideration, but he almost resents Erik for saying it when he wants it so goddamned much, “I couldn’t stay in Germany forever. Where would I go? I can’t stay with your parents forever, and I can’t ask them to keep paying my way. It’s too much, Erik, I couldn’t. Besides, my parents wouldn’t agree to that. There’s no way they would.”

“You’d be eighteen,” he reminds him, “It wouldn’t be their choice,” he says, and it sounds so reasonable when he says it. “Listen, I’m going to get a real job soon, I’ll support you the very best I can. And my parents, I’d bet anything that they be thrilled if you stayed! I promise you we could make it work.”

Nicky feels...numb. He knows there’s more to this, that it isn’t that simple, but his body feels heavy and his mind feels light enough to float right out of his body. Erik grips his hands, tight.

“Nicky, please consider it. I could hardly bare the thought of letting you go before, but if you’re just going to be miserable-- if you’re going back somewhere that will only hurt you? You can stay here; we’ll figure it out, I swear. Give me a chance to show you it’s possible.”

Nicky leans forward, buries his face in Erik’s neck. He wants to defend his home and his family, but he’s too tired, and the mental image of agreeing and staying and never going back...it’s too tantalizing to fight. He scrunches up the fabric of Erik’s shirt in his fists, focuses on the feeling of it in his hands. 

“Please,” Nicky mumbles into his chest, “show me.”

Erik sits his parents down in the living room one night and Nicky gives them the most honest account of his situation as he can bear. Erik’s mother purses her lips, the gesture familiar because Erik does the same thing, and look misty-eyed. She hugs him and isn’t angry at all.

He thinks Mr. Klose is mad, until he realizes that it’s Nicky’s parents who he’s mad at. He says he has half a mind to call up the Hemmick household right then and there to tell them what’s what, apparently forgetting that he can't speak their language. Nicky’s glad that no one actually calls his parents and makes thing even more uncomfortable, but it’s the first time an adult has treated conversion camp like an appalling thing instead of a reasonable one, and that feels liberating. 

Like he’s finally been given permission to feel hurt. They don’t even know what they’re doing, like parenting with love and compassion is the easiest thing in the world.

Erik tells them about wanting Nicky to stay in Germany, and they don’t shoot it down or treat it like a joke or juvenile fantasy. Mr. Klose says he’ll double check the immigration laws so that they can figure out what he needs to do if that’s what he wants. Mrs. Klose rubs his back and tells him that he’ll always be welcome under their roof, for as long as he needs it. Erik sits on his other side and squeezes his hand. 

It’s a dream, or a miracle, and Nicky’s just about ready to believe in a loving god again if it’s all true. Regardless, he’s crying again, which is apparently something he’ll have to just get used to.

“Good thing, too,” Erik’s father says, “It’ll be much easier to see our grandkids if you stay close by.”

Nicky’s face feels warm, and Erik complains loudly. It’s too perfect to put into words.

He does go back to America, of course. He has to actually graduate high school, which he can’t do from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, for one thing. He wants to wait a few days to talk to his parents, but he knows himself. Knows that if he waits, he’ll just get lured back by the promise of family and normalcy and won’t ever be able to tell them the truth, so he does it right there at the baggage claim.

The ride from the airport is very long and very quiet.

At least he knows that he made the right choice, he thinks. At least he won’t have to suffocate here.

He doesn’t have many friends to say goodbye to, because he’d withdrawn from most of them even before he went overseas. He doesn’t have any other family he wants or needs to see.

But he brings and entire bouquet and box of candies he brought home from Germany with him on the last day of school. It might be a little bit much, and some of the other boys call him hot for the teacher, but he doesn’t care. Nicky gives them to his German teacher, along with a tearful hug when he thanks her for pushing him to join the exchange program. He tries to tell her how much he needed it, how it’d changed his life, but it’s hard to explain without outright admitting that she very well may have saved his life. 

Maybe she understands anyway, though. She gives him a watery smile and wishes him the best of luck in life. For the first time, Nicky feels like he might not need it.

**Author's Note:**

> and then the twins came along and he needed all the luck he could get, rip
> 
> hey thanks for reading, i love my boy nicky and that's all that needs to be said on that. also, can u imagine if he and neil were both pathological liars at some point? that's called family bonding
> 
> anyway in the current timeline nicky is super outspoken about things he likes but imagine...all the work it took to het back to that point...i rest my case your honor


End file.
